


Coming Clean

by Sarahtoo



Series: Fantasy and Reality [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We start when Jack needs a shower, and things follow on from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. No plot, really, just smut. It was in my head; now I give it to you. Thanks for the push, hearts_blood!

Jack had imagined making love to Miss Fisher in any number of ways. His fantasy life was rather exclusively populated by Phryne Fisher these days, and the locations in which imaginary Jack had shagged or been shagged by imaginary Phryne seemed endless—in his bed, in her bed, on her chaise lounge, on his desk, on her dining room table, in his car, in her car, on the beach, in a hotel room… And although the acts they committed in his fantasies were far beyond what he’d ever done himself, he was very well-read, and he had a vivid imagination. 

Sometimes, an imagined tryst caught him up a way so heated that he had trouble meeting her eyes. He usually managed to keep himself from spinning the fantasies during the day, as he went about his job, but every once in a while, he couldn’t help himself. He could tell today would be one of those days. Right now, he was speeding toward home, having made some excuse to Collins as to why he needed an hour out in the middle of the day.

Really, it was as much the place as the position that had triggered this. He’d walked into the ballroom of the Grand Hotel in search of a man who had information on a gambling ring. He’d found the man, all right, but he’d had to back out quickly when he realized that the man was wholly occupied in tupping a young woman up against the ballroom wall. Even having removed himself, Jack found the image of the two to be seared on his eyelids. Except. In the image in Jack’s head, the woman wasn’t a maid in a mobcap; she was a lean, aristocratic woman with a short black bob and feathered fascinator. And the man was himself.

Arriving home, Jack hurried toward his house, loosening his tie as he went. He held his overcoat in front of his body, draped across his arm, hoping that it would hide the erection that he’d been unable to suppress since he’d walked out of the Grand. He nodded in what he hoped was a pleasant manner to his neighbor, Mrs Simmons, who was tending her garden, and took the stairs two at a time.

Once inside his door, Jack stepped out of his shoes and began stripping down at the door, dropping his overcoat and shedding jacket, waistcoat, trousers, and shirt on the way to his bathroom. He twisted the taps to his wall-mounted shower viciously, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep himself under control. While the water warmed, he took off the rest of his clothes, leaving his singlet, smalls, and socks lying in a heap on the floor. He leaned both hands against the sink as, naked, he looked at his face in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dilated, and, when he reached a hand up to his hair, he could see that his fingers were shaking. 

“For God’s sake,” he muttered. “This is ridiculous. It’s reprehensible.” He always felt that it was very ungentlemanly to imagine Miss Fisher in sexual situations. This particular scenario seemed almost worse than usual, given that the image in his head was only a posh location away from some of the paid couplings he’d broken up in dark alleys as a young constable. Those had always made him feel dirty, for both parties. But he met his own eyes in the reflection and knew that he’d be doing it anyway.

Stepping under the warm spray of water, Jack reached for the soap. He lathered up his hands and started with his chest, but it wasn’t long before his slippery palm slid down to wrap around his rock-hard cock. Jack leaned his other hand against the shower wall as he closed his eyes and began to stroke himself.

_Jack and Phryne were in a ballroom, entirely alone. Jack took her face into his palms and kissed her; she kissed him back, passionately, her hands wrapping around his back to hold him close. He broke off the kiss long enough to back her up against the wall, then took it up again. Phryne moaned and lifted one of her legs to his hip, thrusting her pelvis toward his. He responded by pressing into the warm place between her thighs with his hips, his cock hardening almost instantly. Phryne’s hands were stroking him everywhere; his own hands were skimming her body, one on her breast, the other cupping her leg to bring their cores into alignment. His lips left hers to open against her throat, sucking the place over her pulse hard, hoping he left a mark._

_“Oh, Jack!” Phryne moaned._

Real life Jack moaned as well, eyes tightly shut, hand beginning to move faster as he spread his legs a bit to get better purchase in the slippery shower.

_“Phryne!” Jack moaned. He moved hand on her breast down to cup her bottom, then slid it to grasp the back of her other leg, bringing it up and around his waist even as he moved so that she could brace her shoulders against the wall. He pressed into that space between her legs in a rhythm that pushed his hard cock into her clitoris over and over. His hands slid up her thighs, under her dress, and caught the back of her knickers. He pulled them down, helping her slide one leg out, before lifting her leg up against his hip again and running his hands back between her legs to slip and slide in the moisture there._

_Phryne’s gasps were loud, and Jack felt her hands moving down his front, undoing the fastenings of his trousers. Her hands reached inside to pull out his cock, and he couldn’t help himself, thrusting against the firm grip of her fingers with a groan._

Real life Jack’s face screwed up into a frown of concentration, his lips rolling together to keep himself from echoing that imaginary groan loud enough for his neighbors to hear.

_Phryne’s hands left his cock with a light squeeze and moved around to cup his ass inside his trousers, pulling him toward her. With a huffing grunt, Jack sank his cock inside her, eliciting an “unnnnhhh” noise from Phryne. Then he started to pump. He pounded himself into her body, kissing her mouth, her neck, and feeling her mouth on whatever skin she could reach. After a few minutes, he stood up straighter, lifting her hips higher to change the angle of his thrusts. Phryne’s outstretched hands gripped his shoulder and the back of his neck as he cupped her thighs and continued to push into and out of her, over and over._

_With this new angle, Phryne began to keen; he was hitting that special place inside her body. A few more thrusts and he found himself close to climax, but his hands were fully occupied holding her up; “Go over, Phryne,” he groaned. Biting her lower lip, she ran her hand down his chest and belly to pinch her clitoris between her fingers. Her mouth opened wide, a low, drawn-out calling of his name, and he muffled her cries and his own with kisses as he came and came and came._

Jack’s body contracted around his hand as he came, his ejaculation intense. He opened his mouth wide, turned his head, and bit down on his bicep to muffle his shout of pleasure. When he stopped shaking, he stood, head down and eyes closed, letting the water beat over his head and wash his come down the drain. Now he’d done it. He’d never be able to get the image of fucking Phryne up against a wall in a semi-public place out of his head. He smiled tiredly. He supposed he could accept that.


	2. Phryne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all don't mind--after I left Jack so satisfied, it seemed like Phryne needed a moment too.

Phryne had imagined debauching Jack Robinson in a plethora of places, in a myriad of ways. In her imagination, she’d shagged him in local landmarks and exotic locales, and every fantasy was remarkably satisfying. That wasn’t particularly unnerving to Phryne. She had many fantasies that she used to relieve her tension when she was between lovers. The strange thing was that, lately, all of her imaginings starred the luscious Detective Inspector! She hadn’t used just one man in her fantasies, well, ever, that she could recall. Perhaps it was because Jack was so contained, so _still_ , that she just couldn’t resist the idea of making him shatter in the most pleasurable of ways. 

It didn’t take much for her to get aroused when she was in Jack’s company. The feel of his bicep under her fingers, the sight of his throat when he loosened his tie, and even the sound of his voice were enough to send her mind spinning. She didn’t think that Jack had noticed her wandering thoughts on these occasions, but even if he had, she wouldn’t mind. Maybe that would be the push that Jack needed to actually—finally—come to her bed.

Today’s bath had become a necessity when the two of them were working late on a case in his office, over dinner. Dot had brought them a basket of Mr Butler’s excellent cooking, and this one had included a dish of the same gratin that she’d fed Jack the first time they’d dined together. The memory of feeding him that first bite and his smirk as he took the dish from her had overlapped with today’s meal. She’d watched him dig in to the cheese-laden potatoes with relish, his lips wrapping around the fork with each bite; he was making small humming noises of enjoyment, and she’d realized that she was clenching her thighs together to ease the ache of arousal she was feeling. She’d managed to keep eating, shooting glances at Jack (who hadn’t seemed to notice), but every time he spoke or made one of those small groans of satisfaction, she could feel the wetness in her knickers growing. When they’d wrapped up, she’d headed straight home and drawn a bath. 

Now, Phryne sank into the fragrant water of her bathtub, relaxing, and began to run her hands over her skin, trying to decide which scenario she’d like to see Jack in today. Hm, she thought, seeing Jack would be lovely. She imagined that he hid a very fit physique behind his staid policeman’s suits. And if her imaginary Jack made some of those yummy noises… Her mouth twitched from side to side, then quirked at one corner. That was it! She closed her eyes.

_Jack stood in the center of her boudoir, completely naked. His body was hard; his thighs toned, his belly flat. Those wonderful, big hands of his hung loose at his sides, and his head was tilted down to hers, his hair falling over his forehead from the work of her fingers. Phryne stood in front of him, also nude. She ran her hands up his chest, fingers stroking his nipples as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him decadently. Jack’s hands lifted to rest on her hips, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the kiss. Phryne cupped his strong jaw with her hand, tracing his hollowing cheeks as his tongue duelled with her own. She pressed her body to his, flattening her breasts against his chest, feeling his hardening cock against her belly._

_Pulling back from his mouth, Phryne ran her hands over Jack’s body, dropping kisses against his shoulders and chest. She stroked down his sides, her hands slipping around his waist to grip the muscles of his back as her mouth followed the light trail of hair that arrowed down his stomach toward his groin. Jack’s hands trailed up her sides as she knelt in front of him, cupping her breasts as she moved before they settled, one of them stroking her hair, the other her shoulder and arm. She could feel the wetness between her thighs increase as she pressed her face to his erection. Her hands kneaded his buttocks, alternately caressing and digging her nails into the muscles there. His hands slid into her hair, and she could hear his breath quickening._

Real life Phryne’s hands were busily playing with her nipples, flattening her hands against her breasts and imagining it was Jack’s chest pressing down on her. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, her breath accellerating.

_With her hands still cupping his buttocks, Phryne tongued Jack’s cock, licking it from base to tip before swirling around its head. He made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat, long and low. “Jack,” she breathed, mouth open against him, tilting her head back to look up his body to his eyes._

_“Phryne,” Jack’s voice was deep and ragged. He was looking at her, eyes hot and muscles tight._

_“Look to your right, Jack,” she whispered, licking him again. She glanced up to see whether he’d followed her instructions. He had, and now he was staring. She’d positioned them here on purpose, beside her standing mirror. He swallowed, and she knew that he could see them, as she could—both of their bodies bared, and her mouth on his cock. Knowing he was watching, she opened her mouth wide to swallow him down._

Alone in her tub, one of Phryne’s hands had moved underneath the water. She slid two fingers, then three, into her channel as the heel of her hand pressed her clitoris. Her fingers pumped slowly in and out, and with each stroke, she pressed the spongy place behind her pelvis that brought so much pleasure. Her other hand shifted upward, two fingers sliding into her mouth to mimic the scene in her mind. 

_Jack’s hands stroked Phryne’s hair away from her face on the mirror side; she knew that he was watching as she took him as far into her mouth as she could. She slid one hand from his ass to cup his balls, rolling and squeezing them gently. Jack’s breath caught, and she felt him begin to make shallow thrusts with his hips. Phryne held him in her mouth, massaging him with her tongue, before letting him slide out again so that she could tighten her lips around his tip, sucking hard; she slid one finger back to press at the sensitive skin behind his testicles, and he groaned loudly, his mouth open._

With the hand buried between her thighs now pumping four fingers into herself, Phryne reached out blindly to grasp the side of the tub. She bit her lip, moaning; she could almost taste the flavor of Jack’s skin, and she could imagine the scent of him there, sweat and soap and that scent that was Jack’s alone. 

_Phryne released Jack’s cock, running her lips down its side so that she could take a moment to admire him in the mirror. His chest was heaving, his muscles now tensed as he fought to hold off his orgasm. His head was tilted, and though his eyes were on the mirror, she thought he was likely switching between looking at it and looking down at her. She met his gaze in the mirror, and his heavy-lidded arousal made her body clench in response._

_She smiled slightly and said, “It’s all right, Jack,” and took him into her mouth again, pulling him as far back as she could; she swallowed, massaging the sensitive head of his cock with the muscles of her throat. She moved her hand to the base of his cock then, so that he could guide her head as he fucked her mouth. When he came, Jack’s shout was ecstatic and he threw his head back, muscles quivering with release. As she swallowed, Phryne heard her name in his joyful noise and felt herself climax too._

In her bathtub, Phryne convulsed around her fingers and cried his name as she came, rather louder than she’d intended, the climax clenching all of her muscles before releasing her into lassitude. Licking her lips as she lay back in the still-warm water, Phryne smiled. If her Detective Inspector was half as delicious in reality as he was in fantasy, she thought she’d quickly become addicted. Perhaps addiction could be an acceptable thing, at that.


	3. Jack & Phryne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, y’all—sorry this took so long! I got sidetracked, but I hope it satisfies. :D

_Finally_ , Jack thought.

 _Finally!_ Phryne thought.

It was late, their most recent case was finished, and Phryne and Jack were in the parlor at 221B, kissing as if they depended on each other for their next breaths.

The evening had started off normally, with the two of them sharing a drink at the end of a long day. Jack had sat down on the chaise as he talked over the outcome of the murder investigation they’d just completed. His eyes were drawn to Phryne, lovely as usual in a gown that glittered with beadwork. She poured them each a drink before coming to sit beside him. It occurred to him that as soon as he’d started sitting on furniture that had room for them both, she’d taken the unspoken invitation to sit with him. Every time. And every time, they ended up looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

This time was no different. Their eyes locked, and it seemed as if there was a gravitational pull between them forcing them to get closer. Both swayed a little; both angled their shoulders so that there was very little room between them. Phryne’s hand, resting on the cushion behind her, was so near to his hip that he could feel the heat of it through his trousers. His arm, stretched along the back of the chaise, could almost touch the soft ends of her raven-black hair. He stretched the tips of his fingers a little, feathering them across the bottom edge of her bob.

Jack cleared his throat a little and opened his mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His mouth opened and closed, and he finally blinked and lifted his whiskey to his lips to cover the fact that he looked like a fish.

Phryne smirked a little. She’d admit, she enjoyed making Jack just a little uncomfortable. She knew the effect she had on men, but Jack had hidden it for so long, she’d begun to doubt that he was at all susceptible to her. She took a drink to camouflage the glance she took down his body. No, he was very definitely susceptible, if his body’s response was anything to go by. The fact that he wasn’t pulling away from her was encouraging too, she thought. Usually, he’d knock back his drink at this point in their dance and excuse himself with a “good night, Miss Fisher,” but he hadn’t yet. She flicked a not-subtle glance down to his lips, which now glistened a little with the residue of good whiskey or a soft lick of his tongue—yes, there was the lick! Phryne’s smirk fell away, and she suddenly, violently, needed to kiss him.

Jack saw the expression on Phryne’s face change. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded and serious in a way he’d only seen once before—as she was unbuttoning him in preparation for his donning that Marc Antony costume. That night, he’d been too raw, too wounded to act on what he saw on her face—he’d just come from divorce court, after all—and then they were both too frantic to find Murdoch Foyle and the moment was gone. Neither was the case tonight, and he had no intention of letting the moment pass by again.

Jack leaned in just that little bit more to softly place his lips on Phryne’s once, twice; catching her lower lip between both of his, he sipped at her mouth. His hand moved from touching her hair to cupping the back of her head. He pulled back just the slightest bit, feeling her breath mingle with his.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Oh yes,” Phryne breathed, flicking her eyes up to meet his. So Jack kissed her again, this time not so carefully nor so sweetly. This time, he kissed her with everything that was in him, his tongue dipping into her mouth, tasting the whiskey on hers. She kissed him back just as passionately, her hand on the cushion sliding up his chest to cup his neck.

Finally, indeed.

After several long moments punctuated only by their increasingly harsh breathing and soft humming noises, Phryne pulled away slightly. She took Jack’s tumbler and her own and turned to set them on the table, then she pushed up onto the knee she’d tucked under herself on the chaise and swung her other leg over Jack’s lap so that she was straddling him. Jack’s hands moved to cup her hips, pulling her tightly to him; he ran one hand up her back to press between her shoulder blades and bring her mouth back to his. This time, when they kissed, Phryne’s hands were in his hair, then at his collar, loosening his tie.

Their mouths never parting, Phryne nudged Jack’s jacket off his shoulders; he helped, extracting his arms one at a time so as not to let go of her, and letting it crumple behind him on the chaise. He slid his hand down her thighs, then back up, his fingers dipping beneath her hem. He didn’t stop at the top of her garters, though he made an inarticulate noise in his throat at the feel of her skin beneath his hands; instead, he continued up her legs until he could palm her buttocks, pulling her closer in pulses that pressed her warm center up against his hardness in the rhythm of lovemaking. Phryne took up the rhythm, her mouth opening at the feel of his cock rubbing up against her, even through layers of clothing.

When Jack was sure she had it, he slid a hand around to cup her mound through her knickers, feeling the wetness of the silk. Sliding into the loose leg-hole, his fingers parted her folds easily, and when he thrust two fingers into her channel, she keened in pleasure, hands clenching in his hair. Phryne’s rhythm became more violent, and Jack added a third finger while circling her clitoris with his thumb. As she pumped her body onto his hand, Phryne pulled away from their kiss, and Jack took that opening to close his teeth around the tendon at her throat. Phryne slammed down one last time on his fingers as she came, her whole body stiffening with pleasure. When it was over, she collapsed onto Jack, whose hand stayed where it was, stroking gently to bring her down.

“Bed, Phryne,” he rumbled in her ear.

She laughed softly, then said, her voice low and rough, “Definitely, Jack. I’m not done with you yet!” She kissed his neck, then his mouth, one hand stroking the back of his head. Their lips clung, more tender now, before she pulled away to stand, slightly wobbly-legged, beside him.

Jack’s eyes were hot, intense. He stood, then snagged his jacket by the collar. Phryne noticed that he used his left hand; with his right, he was rubbing the thumb and fingers—the fingers that had so recently been inside her—together as he brought them to his nose. His nostrils flared at the scent of her, and he stepped purposefully toward her.

“Lead the way, Miss Fisher,” he said, unsmiling.

Phryne grinned and, stepping close, kissed him. Then, catching his loosened tie in her hand, led him up the stairs to her boudoir.

 

*****

 

Jack entered Phryne’s bedroom, still half-unable to believe that he was there. Finally, after months of dancing around each other, their waltz had become truly close. Now he stood here, in his shirtsleeves, watching Phryne Fisher peel out of her glittering dress. Eyes hot, he tossed his jacket over the sofa in the corner of Phryne’s room and lifted his hands to his waistcoat, unbuttoning it and throwing it to meet his jacket. Phryne had shimmied her dress down around her waist, and he could see the peaks of her breasts through her satin underwear as she pushed the dress down and off her hips. When she bent to lift the dress as she stepped out of it, he watched through the gap at the top of her camisole to see her breasts, unbound and bouncing. He swallowed, his fingers moved to pull at his tie, working as quickly as he could.

Phryne laid her dress aside and, still in her underthings, including her garters, stockings, and shoes, moved to help Jack. When her hands moved to take over the unknotting of his tie, his hands fell to her hips, tucking under the edge of her cami to stroke the skin at her waist. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Phryne pulled off his tie and threw it over her shoulder before going back to his buttons. Her breath was coming quickly now; she was thrilled to finally be on the cusp of seeing Jack completely unclothed. Her fingers fumbled a little as the skin of his throat and chest came into view through the loosened cloth. Phryne gave in to impulse and pressed her lips to his neck, licking and sucking at his skin as her fingers continued their way down his chest.

Jack slid his hands around her back, adoring the feel of her soft skin under his fingers. When he felt her mouth at his neck, he caught his breath—the sensation shot directly to his groin, hardening his cock even more. He adjusted his stance a little to slide his leg between hers as he pulled her hips closer. Phryne reacted as he’d hoped she would, pulsing her hips against his thigh. He dropped one hand to her backside, stroking her through the satin of her knickers; his other hand reached across her back for his own wrist, struggling to loosen his cufflink so that as soon as she’d gotten all of his buttons undone, he could strip out of what now felt like confining layers of cloth. Finally successful at one cuff, he switched hands, stroking her other buttock as he removed the other cufflink. Jack slid his hand back around to tuck the cufflinks in his trouser pocket, then he cupped Phryne’s bottom and lifted her against him, taking the two strides to lay her down on the bed.

Phryne had finally pulled the tails of Jack’s shirt out of his waistband, and as Jack laid her down against her soft coverlet, she stroked the shirt back off his shoulders. Jack’s arms were pinned to his sides for just a moment before he pulled away just long enough to free them from the sleeves, and Phryne took that moment to admire him. He wore no singlet beneath his shirt, so she was free to admire the light covering of hair on his upper chest along with his muscular pectorals and trim abdomen. Phryne’s knee on the outside of this thigh moved up to his hip; her other leg slid around to his other hip, and then she had him where she’d wanted him for so long, between her legs, hardened cock pressing at her most sensitive flesh. She lifted her hands back to his chest and began to stroke him, wanting to touch him everywhere.

Jack dropped his shirt to the floor behind him, not caring where it fell. Phryne’s legs, still encased in her silk stockings, were wrapped around his hips, and he could feel himself harden even further. He stroked his hands down her thighs, hooking a finger of each one into the heel of a shoe to push it off; he heard muffled thumps as her shoes hit the carpet behind him. He’d leave the stockings for now; they felt delicious against the skin of his sides, and he imagined that they’d feel even better once his trousers weren’t blocking them from his hips and buttocks. He trailed his hands back up her legs to her waist, pulsing his hips lightly against her as he stroked up and underneath her camisole to palm her breasts. Phryne gasped, her fingers clenching on his chest, short nails digging lightly into his pectoral muscles. Her thighs tightened around him, and she arched her neck as he caught her nipples between the webbing of his fingers, rolling and massaging them.

“Jaaa-aack!” she moaned, and he dipped his head to mouth her breast through the satin camisole. The noise she made then was wordless, and he echoed it as he felt her back arch to push her breast more firmly into his mouth. Moving his hands to her sides, he pushed the camisole up, pushing her arms up and over her head to pull it off of her and leave her bare. As soon as the satin cleared her nipples, Jack’s mouth was there to cover them again. He opened his mouth wide, sucking most of her breast into his mouth and pressing her nipple against its roof with his tongue while scraping his teeth lightly against the underside. Phryne bucked against him again, her thigh rising higher against his side; he slid one hand down to catch it up, pushing harder against her satin-covered mons in the rhythm of lovemaking.

Phryne pulled her camisole all the way off and dropped her hands to Jack’s head, threading her fingers into his hair and mussing it as he licked and sucked at her breasts. She could feel her climax building, and she rocked her hips into his to bring it along. She trailed her fingers around the shell of his ear and heard him gasp before he returned his attention to biting her nipples and rolling them between his teeth, the small pain adding a spike to her pleasure that made her moan again. _Sensitive ears, eh?_ she thought, _I’ll remember that… for later._ And she gave herself up to the pleasure of Jack Robinson’s mouth, hands, and crotch pressing into her body. The keening noise she made when she came was loud, and she hoped that she didn’t wake Dot or Mr Butler, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly care.

Jack felt Phryne tense, heard the sound—almost a scream—that she made, and knew she’d come. He rubbed his face on her breasts, feeling her hands clenching and unclenching in his hair. He’d nearly come himself when she’d played with his ears—imagine that!—and he was glad that he’d been able to stay in control. Drawing himself up, he leaned over to kiss Phryne on her beautiful mouth. He loved how responsive she was, her tongue immediately coming to meet his, her back arching to press her bare breasts against his chest. Breaking away from her lips, he stood, but didn’t disengage her thighs from his waist. Her hands dropped to his chest, petting him, as he continued to pulse his hips against hers.

“Jack, you have far too many clothes on still,” Phryne said, breathless. He grinned, and holding her thighs in place so that he could keep up his rhythm, he carefully toed off first one shoe, then another, marking the moments when the shift in his weight made her gasp or caused her hands or thighs to clench against him. He pulled his socks off by stepping on their toes and sliding his feet out (who knew that habit would come in handy?), before pushing his hands up to her hips and catching the waistband of her knickers.

Reluctantly, Phryne loosened her thighs’ clasp of his marvelous hips to allow him to step back and pull her knickers off. She raised herself up on her elbows to watch as he lowered his head to her belly while his hands slid down her legs. She heard him inhale, felt his lips drop kisses from her navel down to the thatch of hair between her legs. He carefully drew her knickers past her arched feet, and then threw them over his shoulder. His hands moved back up to her derriere, and he buried his face between her thighs. He didn’t lick her or drop kisses there—he only breathed her in, his hands kneading her buttocks. Then he spoke into her, and the vibrations of his voice nearly made her come again.

“I want to spend hours with my mouth on you,” his voice was low, but absolutely clear. “I want to devour you, to feel you climax against my lips, to smell the scent of your pleasure as I make you come, over and over and over.” Hands hard on her bottom, Jack lifted his head. “But not… just… yet. I think that I will die if I can’t get inside you soon, Phryne.” His eyes, when they met hers, looking up her body, were wild, pupils dilated; he was panting.

Pushing away from her, Jack stood up and put his hands to his trouser waistband. Phryne could see his erection tenting the fabric, and the dampness her pleasure had left upon the cloth covering it. She licked her lips.

“Come to bed, Jack,” she purred, thankful that she’d gotten into the habit—out of wishful thinking—of putting her diaphragm in on the nights she knew he was coming over for a nightcap. She’d been hoping for this moment for some time. Watching him, Phryne pulled herself backward on the bed, just far enough that he’d have a place to put his knee down when he came back to her. She wanted him to have the leverage to be forceful when he finally thrust himself inside her. Her breath shuddered in, and she blew it out hard at the thought. Then she was too enraptured by the sight of his nakedness to think any more.

Jack, naked as he was made, was beautiful. His chest was muscular, the lines of his arms defined as only those of an athlete could be. His hips, with skin slightly lighter than his chest and arms, were lean, and the V of muscle between them led the eye unerringly to his gorgeous cock, which was erect, tilting upward toward his belly. It was long and thick, and its plum-shaped circumcised head was smooth and dark. As Phryne watched, he cupped his cock with one hand, sliding up from the base of his shaft toward the top, where he captured a drop of fluid from its tip with his thumb, smearing it around the head. Phryne’s tongue came out to lick at her upper lip, her mouth watering at the thought of taking that beautiful thing into her mouth. _Perhaps later,_ she thought. _After._

“Are you protected, Phryne?” Jack asked, his voice a growl as he continued to stroke himself.

Phryne could only nod, mesmerized by the sight of his hand pulling the sensitive skin of his cock, his fist squeezing and releasing as he pumped up and down his shaft.

“Good,” Jack said. Hand still on his cock, Jack put one knee on the mattress between Phryne’s spread thighs. His other hand reached over to press into the mattress beside her opposite hip, bracing himself as he climbed onto the bed. Phryne eyed his thighs—they were powerful, muscular.

“Jack!” her voice was breathy, and she reached out to run her hand up his braced arm to grasp him by the shoulder and try to pull him closer. He looked at her, resisting, his eyes heavy with arousal. Moving to lever himself over her body, Jack fitted the head of his penis to her channel, coming only barely inside her body. Phryne’s mouth opened on a soundless “aaah” at the sensation. Holding himself in place, Jack slid the hand that had been on his cock to her hip, pulling her thigh, still encased in its silky stocking, up to hook over his hipbone. And then he thrust himself into her, pushing hard until he felt his balls hit the curve of her bottom. He stopped there, holding still, as he pushed up on his knees, thighs bulging as he hooked an arm under her other leg, lifting it high and pulling it out just a little. As he rose, widening his stance, her hips rose with him, her body impaled upon him, and her wail of pleasure was definitely not soundless.

As Jack stilled for a moment more, his cock buried within Phryne Fisher, he had to check that this was reality; he wasn’t at home, alone in his shower. He felt _everything_ , from the wet heat that surrounded his member to the warmth of her buttocks resting on his thighs to the slippery silk of her stockings gliding along his hip and arm. He saw _everything_ , from the bounce of her breasts as she breathed huge gulps of air to the heat of her eyes as she watched him to the way her hands grasped at the coverlet for purchase as he pulled her hips to his. He heard everything, he smelled everything, he had her taste on his tongue. This. Was. Real. And he planned to enjoy every second of it.

Jack’s expressive mouth opened into an almost feral smile as, grasping Phryne’s hips in his big hands, he began to move within her. He wasn’t gentle—he hoped that would come later, but this first time, gentleness was buried beneath hunger. With each thrust, he pulled himself about halfway out of her body, then slammed himself home again. Phryne fell back, her one arm not enough to support her, and her hands moved to grasp his forearms. She moaned his name repeatedly as he took her body again and again. When he felt her thighs begin to quiver, he moved to wrap them snugly around his hips, then slid his hands under her back to pull her up against his chest.

Balanced on his lap, his hands on her back as he continued to drive into her with those powerful thighs, Phryne slid her hands around his shoulders and kissed him, her thrusting tongue mimicking the movement of his hips as she hungrily drank him in. Jack moved one of his hands up to cup the back of her head, threading his fingers through her soft hair and keeping her mouth on his as his other hand moved to touch her breast. When Phryne felt his long fingers pinching her nipple, her body contracted, her head snapping back against his steadying hand, mouth open and his name flying from her lips on an ascending scale. Jack pressed his open mouth to the side of her throat, riding out the spasms he could feel pressing against his cock where he was buried inside of her, until he could bear it no more and he came, thrusting one final time, hard, and calling her name as he held himself deep within her body, letting the pulses of his orgasm flood her.

Limply, Phryne collapsed against him, spent, tucking her head into his shoulder. She didn’t move from his lap, loving the feeling of his cock softening inside her body.

“Mmm, Jack,” she said, licking at the sweat that glistened on his throat. “How did we manage to keep from doing _that_ for so long?”

Jack chuckled, his own head tucked alongside hers, arms wrapped around her body as he balanced her on his thighs. “I don’t know about you, Miss Fisher, but it took quite a bit of… effort… on my part to be sure that I didn’t come apart every time I looked at you.”

Phryne laughed. “You’re inside my body, Jack! Surely you can call me by my first name?” He gave a small snort of amusement at himself. “And ‘effort,’ Jack? Surely, you don’t mean…” Phryne’s hand slid down his chest, between their bodies. Jack could feel himself beginning to harden again as she stroked the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, her fingertips dipping down through his pubic hair to stroke his balls. “Did you… take yourself in hand, Jack? I loved that part of tonight’s activities, I’ll admit.”

Jack felt himself reddening. “I might have done,” he said, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“Where, Jack?” Phryne’s voice was teasing, light, as she squirmed more against him. “In your office?”

“In my shower, mostly,” Jack growled, hand sliding down to her bottom to urge her hips against him again. “And damn, if I didn’t have to… address the situation… at some rather inconvenient times.” He lifted his head to look at her. Her smile was smug.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, darling,” she said, her voice a purr against his neck, “I have done the same, regarding you.” His eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head a little.

“Where, Phryne?” He felt a certain smugness arise in his own smile as he echoed her question, his voice rumbling low in his chest.

“All over, Jack,” she murmured, “but often in the bath. Baths are very… stimulating… I find. Don’t you?”

Jack grinned. “Well, then, since we both do enjoy being clean so very much, perhaps a bath is in order now. I do feel a little dirty at the moment.” He bent his head to lick a path up the arched line of her neck, tasting her sweat and the sweetness that was all Phryne, and he was pleased to hear her breath catch.

“An excellent idea, Jack,” Phryne said, raising her head to smile into his eyes. “But perhaps in just a few minutes.” She had felt his cock hardening within her as they spoke and her fingers stroked, and she began to circle and pulse her hips to encourage it back to life. “I find that I’m not quite ready to clean up just yet.”

She leaned down a bit to capture his lips with her own and they proceeded to make themselves very dirty indeed.


	4. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I thought I was done with this, but then this chapter and the next one ambushed me. I hope you don't mind!

Jack woke slowly, his mind still lingering on the lovely dream he’d had. In his dream, he’d finally kissed Phryne, and she’d kissed him back. And then they’d made love with all of the heat that he’d ever imagined. He smiled, eyes still closed, and breathed in deeply, thinking that it must have been an incredibly vivid dream, because he could smell her perfume. His muscles clenched, then released, and he felt something shift against his shoulder.

Eyebrows contracting, he became aware of a warmth along the front of his body and a warm weight in his palm. He opened his eyes and froze. It hadn’t been a dream. He was in Phryne Fisher’s bedroom, in Phryne Fisher’s bed, spooning up against Phryne Fisher’s naked back. His face was buried in her hair, one arm stretched out under her head and the other draped over her body, cupping one of her breasts. Jack felt a jolt go through his body, and realized that he was fully aroused. _It hadn’t been a dream!_

Resting his head against the back of hers, thumb lightly stroking the soft skin on the side of her breast, he closed his eyes again. Unbelievable. He’d known they were working their way toward this, but he hadn’t planned last night. Scenes from the previous evening flashed through his mind. It had been spontaneous, wild, and wonderful. First, he had taken her with his fingers in the parlor, then they had taken each other twice more, kneeling on her bed. They hadn’t made it to the bath they’d bantered about, but that might yet be a possibility if the morning turned out the way he was beginning to hope.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes. The light coming in the bedroom windows was still weak; it was likely only slightly past dawn. He knew that Phryne wasn’t much for mornings, but perhaps she wouldn’t mind being woken this once. His small smile was wicked as he shifted his hips to nestle his erection more firmly between her buttocks. He began to employ the hand he had on her breast more deliberately, stroking and squeezing the rounded weight of it before moving to roll her nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger.

“Phryne,” he said softly, shifting so that his mouth was by her ear. “Phryne, wake up, love.” Jack began to move his hips lightly, trapping and releasing his aroused cock between their bodies. As he continued to speak, his voice a low rumble, he dropped kisses down her neck before returning to nibble and lick at the delicate shell of her ear. “Phryne, it’s time to wake up so that I can make sure to thoroughly dirty you before we run that bath to clean up.”

“Mmmph,” Phryne said elegantly, “’s too early…” She stirred lightly, pressing her breast more firmly into his caressing fingers and arching her back, which pressed her bottom into another part of him. Jack’s breath caught.

“It is early, love,” he said, shifting the arm he had under her head so that he could reach around to her other breast with it, “but I promise you’ll be glad if you wake up.” He stroked the hand draped over her body down her belly, pressing lightly into her belly button and skimming downward before stopping to draw tiny circles in the thatch of hair at the top of her thighs.

“Mmm, Jack,” Phryne whispered, still half-asleep. Her hand, curled across her belly, moved up and over her hip to grasp his, fingers pressing into his buttock. “Jack…”

Jack smiled again, his mouth moving down to kiss and lick at her neck and shoulder. He caught her nipple in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, allowing him to continue to caress her whole breast while stimulating the hardening peak. He felt her breathing grow shallower, faster, and her hips begin to move, echoing the rhythm of his own. Her hand on his ass gripped tighter, pulling him toward her. He moved his lips back to her ear.

“Phryne love, I want to touch you,” he murmured, “but I want to be sure you’re with me. Wake up, darling.” His hand between her legs stroked down her thigh to her knee, preparing to lift her leg up to open her body to him. But he would not touch her more intimately until she woke and consented.

Phryne’s head tilted back to rest on Jack’s shoulder and her eyes opened slightly, their bright blue flashing through the slitted lids. Her smile was sleepy and sweet as she turned her head to kiss him; he took her lips softly at first, but the kiss soon grew hotter, their tongues exploring each other’s textures and tastes.

His name was a moan against his mouth. “Jack… want you…”

Still kissing her, Jack lifted her leg to rest atop one of his and shifted his hips to slide his cock to rest in the soft heat between her thighs. Continuing to pulse his hips, he slid himself lightly back and forth over her sex, bumping his tip against her clitoris with each forward movement. He could feel the wetness gathering against his hardened flesh, and he could smell the sweet musk of her arousal. He slid his hand down her leg again, fingers diving through the curls that covered her most intimate flesh. He parted her folds with his fingers, making room for his cock to come even closer while he spread her body’s moisture up, down, and over himself, stroking both of them at once.

Phryne’s hand on his body became claw-like, nails biting into the firm flesh of his buttock. When he broke the kiss to drop his mouth to her neck, sucking and biting the flesh there, she darted her tongue into his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth. He made a wordless sound, hips surging harder against her, hand clenching on her breast.

Nudging his knees behind hers to bend them, Jack guided his cock into her warm, wet channel, pressing himself home slowly until he’d lodged himself in all the way, his balls snug against the backs of her thighs. As he moved into her, Phryne groaned and her hand on his backside moved up to cup the back of his head, holding his open mouth against the curve of her shoulder. Jack began to move, his fingers holding her labia open, the curve of his palm at the bottom of his thumb riding her clit as he speared himself into her. Each time he thrust himself in, he bumped her body against the hard base of his hand, and he could feel his own fingers as an additional pressure against his cock.

Making minute adjustments with each movement into and out of her body, Jack continued to search for that one special spot. When he found it, Phryne began to keen, her fingers clenching in his hair, her breath hot against his face. Thrusting harder, he held the same position so that he hit that place over and over again. The combination of those thrusts and the impact of his hand on her clit created a sandwich of sensation that caused the tension in Phryne’s body to build and build until she broke, and he covered her mouth with his to capture her high, tight scream.

As her muscles relaxed after her climax, the leg that Phryne had propped on his thigh slid down, and the resulting tightness of the space between her thighs was thrilling for Jack. He pushed with his knees until her legs were aligned atop his, as if she were sitting on his thighs. With his chest pressed to her back, his thrusts were shallow, but it felt as if they were even closer together—something he hadn’t really thought possible. As he continued to drive into her body, pushing harder with his hips to make up for the lack of depth, he felt Phryne’s hand move down to cover his own between her thighs. Her fingers slid into the tight space between them, stroking over the back of his hand where he held her open, and coming to rest where she could touch him as he moved into her. He could feel the light scratch of her nails on his arousal, slick with the juices of her body; each time it came within reach, her fingers pressed a spot at the base of his cock. It took only three or four strokes before the combined sensation pushed him over his own peak, and he muffled his ecstatic shout in her shoulder as the pulses of his orgasm shook their bodies.

When he could move again, Jack pulled out of her body and, as Phryne turned to face him, he wound his arms around her. He kissed her then, telling her without words how much he adored her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck and returning his ardent kisses, murmuring his name against his lips as she pressed her body to his. They lay there entwined a while, content to hold each other as they caught their breath.

After a few minutes, Phryne stirred. “What a lovely way to wake up,” she said, smiling up at him, her hand against his chest.

“I rather thought it was a dream at first,” Jack said, his lips quirking in his small sideways smile. He stroked her hair away from her face with one big hand. “I’m not sure quite how we got here, but I’m counting my blessings all the same.”

“As am I, Jack,” she said, leaning to press a kiss over his heart. “As am I.” Her smile flashed. “I do think, however, that both of us could use a little bit of a wash.”

Jack’s smile turned into a grin. “Well, then, Miss Fisher, maybe it’s finally time for that bath?”

Her answering smile promised that even getting clean could be dirty.


	5. In the Bath at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, I really did want to round out the theme and get these two into the bath together at last. Enjoy!

As Phryne moved to the tub in the corner of her room to start the water, Jack double-checked the lock on the door. The last thing he wanted, now that he was certain Phryne’s staff could hear them moving around, was for Dot or Mr Butler to come in unannounced. The very thought was mortifying. He wasn’t ashamed, though. In fact, he rather looked forward to letting her household know that the two of them had come together romantically at last. He’d happily shout it from the rooftops if he thought she’d let him. For as long as she’d have him, he’d stand proudly by her side.

Turning around, he paused at the sight of Phryne, nude and bending over to test the temperature of the water coming out of the spigot. His body reacted as if he were twenty years younger, beginning to harden again at the sight. He grinned, sauntering over to stroke a hand down her flank and bending to press a kiss to the nape of her neck.

“Jack!” There was laughter in her voice, and the hum she gave as his hips came up against her backside was appreciative. “We’ll never get clean this way,” she said, smiling as she stroked his hip and pulled away. “Would you fetch a couple of towels from the dressing room for us?” She watched him walk away, admiring the smooth play of muscle under his skin as he walked. His powerful thighs clenched with each step, as did the hollows of his buttocks.

Licking her lips as she tore her eyes away, she reached over to the table beside her bathtub, fingers lightly touching each colorful bottle before pulling out the dark blue one that held salts scented with bergamot. It was as masculine a scent as she had on hand; she made a mental note to purchase some that Jack wouldn’t object to, since she intended to have him using her tub on a regular basis. She poured some out over the heated water and the scent billowed into the room. Replacing the crystal stopper, she returned the bottle to its spot and, reaching into the table drawer, extracted a bar of eucalyptus soap and laid it within reaching distance. Satisfied, she stepped into the tub, stretching out her legs and leaning against the high wall at one end. The water was deep enough, so she twisted the taps off and laid her head back against the tub. When she heard Jack close the dressing room door, she lifted her head to watch his return. 

Jack’s body from the front was just as beautiful as he had been walking away. His chest was defined, its skin stretching tautly over the muscles beneath, his nipples a dark rose, slightly pebbled in the chill of the morning. The bottom of his ribcage was visible, framing a flat belly, and the muscles at his hips cut sharply diagonal, drawing attention to the hair clustered at the base of his semi-erect cock. Phryne licked her lips again, her eyes hot as she watched that part of him bounce lightly with each step.

Jack, returning with a pair of fluffy blue towels, paused at the look in Phryne’s eyes as she reclined in the tub. Dropping the towels on the bench at the foot of her bed, he moved to stand spread-legged beside the tub, planting his hands on his hips. He raised one eyebrow as he tilted his head to look at her.

“Is there room in there for me, Miss Fisher?” His voice was growly and low, and he swore he could feel her eyes caressing him as he stood before her. The scent of her bathwater was sensual without being too feminine, and he could see the curve of her hips and the shadow of her pubic hair below the water. Her breasts were dry, and he took a moment to appreciate them yet again. They curved out from her chest, fuller toward the bottom, hardened nipples pointing slightly upward. Their soft, pale skin was lightly flushed, either from the heat of the bath or from her obviously lustful thoughts, and they rose and fell with the rhythm of her breath. Her aureolae were a darker pink than her naked lips, and they pebbled as her nipples elongated under his eyes. He could feel his cock hardening even more, straightening away from his body as she watched him.

“Absolutely, inspector,” she purred, “there is plenty of room right here for you.” She bent her knees, opening her legs to show the space she intended for him. Her smile was taunting, and she raised a hand to beckon him forward. Jack tilted his head and looked at her sideways. It was that same admonishing look he gave her when she teased him while they were on a case, Phryne thought, smirking.

Jack’s smile grew as he looked at her sexy smirking lips. He was definitely not averse to lying between those thighs! He took her hand and stepped into the bathtub, trying not to slosh too much as he lowered himself into the water in front of her.

When Jack lay back against her, his knees bent to fit his long legs into the tub, Phryne wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck, relishing the weight of him against her breasts. His hands fell to her thighs, and his big hands cupped them as he stroked from the backs of her knees to her buttocks. Phryne loosened her hold around him to run her hands down his chest to the water line, scooping warm, fragrant water up and pouring it over his skin. Reaching out, she grasped the bar of soap and brought it into the tub, ducking it under the water to moisten it before rolling it between her hands to work up a lather.

Ignoring the washcloths she’d laid along the side of the tub, Phryne used her hands to spread the luscious bubbles over Jack’s chest and shoulders, taking her time to stroke his muscles as she washed them and scraping her fingernails gently over his nipples. She soaped his neck and the angle of his jaw, relishing the slight scratchiness of his morning beard against her fingers. Slipping her hands under his shoulders, she used both to wash first his left arm, then his right, paying attention to the muscles of his biceps, the hollow of his elbow, and the spaces between his long fingers. Her hands massaged him, leaving every muscle lax in her wake. When she’d finished his chest and arms, she rinsed them, cupping her hands to pour water over him until the soap was completely washed away.

With his upper body clean, Phryne resoaped her hands and moved to his belly, running soapy fingers over his belly button and tracing those diagonal muscles as she moved down to wrap her hand around his cock. It was still hard from their earlier eye-play, and at the touch of her hand it sprang to attention. With one hand, she stroked him from base to tip, twisting slightly as she went; her other hand slid deeper under the water to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly and rolling them together. She was fascinated by the way the crinkly texture of his pubic hair contrasted with the silk-over-steel feeling of his testicles and penis. Her hands worked him and she listened as his breath grew choppy and he groaned her name. Smiling slightly, she dropped kisses across his shoulder and up his neck to his ear, swirling her tongue around the outer edge before dipping it into the canal.

“Go over, Jack,” she whispered, directly into his ear. With a shout, Jack grabbed the washcloth folded over the side of the tub and covered her hands and his cock with it, catching his ejaculation as his body contracted. Phryne could feel the muscles in his cock spasm against her palm, and those in his belly clench against the back of her hand. Dropping the washcloth outside the tub, Jack lay back against her, gasping. He turned his head toward her and captured her mouth as his arm reached back to grasp the back of her head. She smiled against his lips and felt his mouth curve in return.

“You are… the most amazing woman,” he rumbled. And he turned to grasp her by the waist and swing her around his body to sit astride his lap, facing him. Laughing, Phryne went, mentally apologizing to her staff for the water that splashed over the edges of the tub. Once she was facing Jack, she kissed him again, then lay back against his raised knees as he fished under the water for the soap. Finding it with a quiet “aha!” he held it up for her to see, triumphant, before he began soaping his own hands.

“My turn, Miss Fisher,” he said. Laying the soap aside, he stroked his hands over her shoulder and down her arm, lightly massaging as he went. He paid special attention to her fingers, rotating each joint and pressing his soapy fingers between hers to clasp their hands together before moving on. When he’d soaped one arm, he rinsed it, scooping water up and pouring it over her with a single-minded focus that took her breath away. He tested the cleanliness of each rinsed part with his lips, kissing every bit of her skin he could reach, from fingers to shoulder. When he’d finished her first arm, he turned his attention to the other, ignoring Phryne’s quickening breath and her soft calling of his name. He repeated the same treatment, soaping each bit of her skin carefully, lovingly, before ending at her fingertips and clasping her hand with his. Then rinsing her in reverse, fingers to shoulder, and tracing every bit with his lips.

Phryne was quivering by the time he’d finished her second arm. When he moved to soap and then rinse her neck and collarbone, trailing kisses behind as he washed the soap away, his name had become a chant. When he stopped to pick up the soap again, meeting her eyes with a smirk as he methodically worked up a lather, his name became a demand. And when he finally placed his soapy hands on her breasts, plumping and stroking them before using the slickness of the soap to lubricate his fingers’ light twisting of her nipples, his name was a shout and he felt her legs, tucked behind his hips, clench her core against his belly as she came. He caught his breath, watching her face as she climaxed, head thrown back and eyes closed, cheeks flushing, pink lips open and calling his name.

“Beautiful,” he breathed.

Her hands now clasping his neck and her fingers in his hair, he rinsed her breasts, following the sluicing water with his lips, taking each of her nipples into his mouth and laving them with his tongue. _Worshipping her body,_ he thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. She whimpered with pleasure, her hips beginning to surge against his as the tension rose yet again. Jack could feel himself hardening again, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. He wanted to wash every inch of her, touch and kiss every bit of her skin, learn her every sound and sensitive spot. And so he moved on from her beautiful breasts, soaping her belly and down each leg, pulling them from around him to drape first one, then the other up and over his shoulder as he washed and massaged her from hip to toe. Bending her knees as he rinsed her, he ran his mouth over all of her that he could reach, kissing her calves, running his mouth down the arches of her feet, and pulling her toes between his lips to lave them with his tongue.

Only then, when her feet and legs were clean and kissed, did he move his attention to the place between her thighs. His soapy fingers explored there as well, running through her curls, caressing the hollows at the tops of her thighs, slipping through her labia to press into her body. He soaped her most private parts, ran his hands back under her buttocks, and soaped between them, pressing lightly as he passed the second entrance to her body, just to hear her breath catch. Then he rinsed her, slipping down in the tub so that he could follow his cleansing fingers with his mouth.

Phryne shifted, first reaching beneath them to pull the plug to let the soapy water gurgle away, then gripping the sides of the tub with her hands, her bottom moving up his chest as he lay down, her shoulders against his knees as he used his mouth on her. She had had men use their mouths on her before, but this… this was Jack, and she thought she had never felt anything close to its equal. Jack’s tongue explored every texture of her intimate flesh, licking through the crinkly hair to the soft, wet warmth in between. He wrapped his lips around her clitoris, sucking lightly before catching it gently between his teeth and batting at it with his tongue. When her breathing became labored, he backed off, pressing little kisses up the sides of her thighs until he was sure her climax was no longer imminent. Then he licked her, his tongue flat, from the opening of her body to the top of her mons before returning to nuzzle her clit with his nose as he fucked her with his tongue. She could feel the shape of his cheekbones against her inner thighs and the slight scratchiness of his unshaven chin made her skin even more sensitive when he followed it with his kisses. He brought her to the edge of orgasm three times before finally letting her go over, and then he kept his face between her thighs, licking and sucking at her as her climax rocketed through her body.

Jacked pushed himself back up once Phryne’s shudders stopped, sliding her hips back to the crook of his thighs. He was slightly surprised at the lack of water in the tub—he had no memory of it draining away—and he reached up to stroke Phryne’s face where she lay, her head thrown back and pillowed on his knees.

“Phryne,” he murmured. She opened her eyes just a little, eyebrows raising in question. “Shall we dry off and get you back to bed?” Phryne made a small noise that he took to be assent, so he sat up, one hand behind her head supporting her as he repositioned her to lean against the side of the tub. He stood and stepped out, reaching for a towel; he quickly wiped himself mostly dry before tucking the towel around his hips.

“Up you go,” he said, pulling one of Phryne’s arms up and over his shoulder as he slid the other beneath her knees. He lifted her, turning to set her on her feet where she stood, swaying slightly, as he picked up the other towel. He gently ran the towel over her skin, drying her carefully. He noticed the reddened spots on her skin where his beard had chafed her, and kissed them carefully to make amends, promising himself that he’d shave first next time. Then he scooped her up again, carried her to the bed, and tucked her in. When he stepped back, looking around for his clothes, she roused enough to reach for him.

“Aren’t you coming back to bed, Jack?” Her voice was worried, if slightly slurred from exhaustion.

He smiled. He’d wrecked her. He supposed he shouldn’t be proud of that, but he was. This was the incomparable Phryne Fisher, and he, simple Jack Robinson, had given her such pleasure that she could barely move. The satisfaction that gave him was rather primal in nature. He moved to take her hand and sit next to her on the bed.

“I thought I’d let you rest,” he said softly, lifting one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I can come back later.”

“No, stay,” she said quietly, her eyes closing. “Sleep with me.” She tugged the hand in which he held hers and tucked it under her cheek, pulling him closer. He smiled again and, dropping a kiss on her forehead, reached to drop the towel around his waist and climb in beside her. She nestled closer to him, pillowing her head on his chest, and whispered, “Jack.”

He lay there, holding her and wondering whether it was possible to die from happiness. Everything he wanted in life was here, in his arms. Folding his arms around her, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.


End file.
